


What's Lost and Found

by TimeSorceror



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Abandonment, Alpha Fenris (Dragon Age), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Omega Anders (Dragon Age), Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSorceror/pseuds/TimeSorceror
Summary: Anders swore he was infertile, or at least the Taint should've made him so. But now, with Fenris' child in his belly as he flees Kirkwall in the wake of the destruction of the Chantry, he is most definitely not. Unfortunately for him, Fenris was opposed to the child's existence, and so Anders must go back to the people he'd been running from in the first place if his child has any hope of surviving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous prompt I received on tumblr: _Omega Anders is tired, scared and alone as he flees a burning Kirkwall. He told Fenris he was pregnant, Fen flipped. He thought the 'sterile' Grey Warden abomination had used blood magic to trap him, and threatened him. Hours later Anders set off the explosion and ran. Justice passes to the child during birth, and a broken hearted, remorseful Fenris spends years searching for his love and their child._
> 
> Fenris doesn't mention blood magic, exactly, but he does threaten Anders during their exchange. Also, there is about a week between the time Anders tells Fenris and the day he blows up the Chantry, but the elements are all there.
> 
> Part 2 will be about Fenris' "oh shit I fucked up" realization, subsequent search, and then discovery of Anders and their child. But for now, you get angst. Enjoy. :P

Smoke floated through the air as fire burned all around him. Anders had only stopped to gather the knapsack he’d prepared with his things from the clinic and some extra supplies that strangely Justice hadn’t raised any objections to him packing. And he would certainly need them… for the child he was carrying.

Fenris’ child.

His eyes stung at the thought of the alpha who had rejected him when he’d told of his discovery. Anders had felt many terrible things in his life, but the rejection of an alpha –especially an alpha who he had thought loved him, cared for him, and cherished him… that was certainly among the worst. Suddenly he understood all of those close calls, those would-be suicides that had sometimes found their way into his clinic.

Anders had known that destroying the Chantry would probably cost him his life, but at Fenris’ rejection, he felt he more than deserved it in spite of the life he carried within. Tears ran down his face as he merged with a crowd of people boarding a ship to Highever, unable to keep the memories from filling his mind.

* * *

 

_“You… you’re **what?!** ” _

_Anders sat trembling on the edge of their bed, wincing at the sharp sound of Fenris’ outburst. The alpha turned on him, growling, “You told me you couldn’t get pregnant!”_

_“I know I did!” He bit back, regretting the words as soon as he said them. Fenris rounded on him and he quickly skittered backwards on the bed, breathing erratically. “Then you lied,” Fenris hissed, and Anders shook his head fervently. “No, no, I swear I didn’t know! I thought the Taint would make me infertile!”_

_Fenris was quiet for a long time, and Anders felt his heart lift a little in the hopes that perhaps the alpha was calming down._

_“...I want you to get rid of it,” Fenris said in a low voice._

_Anders’ stomach dropped through to the floor. “No,” he whispered on impulse, “I couldn’t–!”_

_Fenris growled again and suddenly he was upon Anders, gripping his wrists and pinning him to the bed in an almost painful fashion. “You will if you wish to remain with me,” Fenris told him, eyes flashing. “Or I’ll find a way to get rid of it myself. A child has no place in lives like ours.”_

_Not if we don’t make a place, Anders thought. This time however, he chose not to say it._

_“F–Fenris, I can’t,” he sobbed, hot tears forming and falling down his cheeks and into the shells of his ears. “I w-want to keep it. I m-might never get an–nother chance…” Fenris growled again and pushed violently against his chest, making the omega gasp as he struggled to catch his breath. “Then get out,” Fenris told him, pointing at the door with one gauntleted hand._

_“Get out, and never come back. Or I’ll–” Fenris paused, as though unable to finish his threat, but then he fixed his gaze on Anders as he was quickly gathering his things and he finished with, “Come back, and you will regret it, abomination.”_

_Once Anders had gathered as many of his things that he could carry, he fled the mansion, trying to ignore the ache in his soul._

* * *

 

That had been about a week ago, and the ache was still as fresh as ever.

Fresh tears formed and fell as he curled in on himself, sitting on a crate in the hold of this ship and trying not to draw attention with his sobbing. A few people did notice, but only one dared approach him to ask what was wrong. A young woman with a cut on her cheek and burns on her arms. The cut was still bleeding and the burns, though slight, looked like they hurt terribly.

“I… I can heal those,” he said quietly through his sobs, but then he stilled and his eyes widened with fear as he realized the implications of his words. “I–I mean, I… I have poultices and potions that can help…”

The woman huffed quietly. “You are a healer alright, looking after people who are hurting even when you are.” She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Almost immediately, a hand went protectively to his middle, and she glanced down, eyes softening with sudden understanding. Then she looked to his neck for a mating mark… only to find nothing. A hand moved to cover her mouth. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, you poor thing. Does… does the sire know? Are they still alive?”

Anders couldn’t help but let loose another sob as the young woman pulled him close.

“He knows. I told him about a week ago. And I don’t know, but if he is, he doesn’t want me. Not as long as I’m still with child. I’m as good as dead to him now anyway.” The young woman merely held him as he cried, and she called over a few others to bring food and water. It took some coaxing, but she got him to eat a few things and after a while he eventually calmed down.

“Where are you going next then?” The young woman asked, and Anders had to pause for a minute to really think about that. The boat they were on was bound for Highever, and though the the most obvious option was a road he had hope he would never again travel…

...well, he had cheated death once already. Perhaps the Wardens would be just as forgiving as Hawke had been. It might be the only chance for his child, if not for himself.

“Amaranthine,” he told her quietly, one arm still cradled about his slightly rounded middle.

“That’s quite a long way,” she said, worried. “I don’t know anything about babies, but should you be travelin’ so far in your condition?” Anders snorted. “I don’t really have a choice. I know some people there and have nowhere else to go.”

“At least let us buy you a horse and some supplies?” She looked around at the people who were gathered around, mostly omegas and female betas by their scent, and they all agreed that they would pitch in to help. One beta even volunteered to go with him. “I have family there, myself. I’ll go with you.” Anders merely ducked his head, unable to face their kindness.

If they only knew who it was that they were sitting with. Then they would not be nearly as kind.

* * *

 

They docked about a day and a half later, and for a little while Anders was able to forget the pain of Fenris’ rejection and the weight of what he’d done in Kirkwall. The group of kind strangers he’d met at the beginning of their voyage were good at keeping him distracted, but when they asked for his name he answered with, “Erich,” instead of Anders.

No one was looking for Erich the mundane healer.

It helped that he’d left his favored feathered pauldrons behind and traveled only in a light leather coat, nondescript tunic and trousers, and his usual boots. He still had Freedom’s Call, but he’d stripped it of everything that would make it look like a staff. To the others, it was just a walking stick, and the bandages he kept wrapped around his knee for any accidents made it look like he needed it to get around.

They fed him well. Kept him warm. Sometimes he couldn’t take their kindness and just started crying again, but it was not uncommon for some of the vessel’s other occupants to do so either and few thought anything of it.

When they reached Highever, one of the omegas who had been looking after him bought him a horse and supplies, and he traveled with them and their alpha mate all the way to Amaranthine.

That was another week gone. Anders wondered where Fenris was. Where everyone was.

Had they survived fleeing the city? What did they think of him now?

Anders half expected Justice to chastise him for such unproductive thoughts, but when Anders tried to reach for the spirit, Justice was… unresponsive. Anders could still feel him, though it was as though their connection was frayed, the impressions distant. It worried him, but as Justice did not feel agitated or uncomfortable –in fact, he seemed to be sleeping contentedly for reasons Anders could not fathom– Anders tried not to let his worry consume him too much.

Instead, he bid his thankful goodbyes to the couple as they saw him off on his way to Vigil’s Keep, not wanting to enter the city lest Nathaniel’s sister caught sight of him.

Those two days between the city and the keep were two of the longest days of his life.

It wasn’t that they were difficult (his kind patrons had been very kind indeed, knowing he had a child on the way) but with Justice unusually quiet and there being few others on the road with him, the trek was far too quiet. It gave him the time he needed to dwell on thoughts that he had trouble avoiding: namely, anything that would send him flying into depression or a fit of tears, and now he had no one to comfort him.

He was in the middle of such a fit when the doors to the keep opened to him after he confessed that he was a Warden to the gate guards. He had been told to wait for a Senior Warden to come by to verify his claim, and there stood Nathaniel Howe on the other side of the gate, eyes wide.

The archer didn’t even bother saying a word; just pulled Anders to him and clasped him close.

“Anders! You came back!” Nathaniel pulled away and added, “Why?” before he took a deep breath and caught a whiff of Anders’ scent. Anders knew that it should be quite obvious now to anyone who was close enough, and he watched as the other Warden’s eyes widened and he glanced down at Anders’ middle.

“...that’s why,” Anders sniffed quietly, using a sleeve to wipe at his tears.

Nathaniel wasted no time in getting him inside and brought him to the larder. Emotions swelled in Anders’ breast at the sight of the familiar room, but this time he was able to hold back his tears in favor of descending on the food with as much abandon as he was comfortable with.

Even Nathaniel seemed a little shocked at how much he had ended up consuming, but thankfully did not comment on it.

Instead, he asked, “Do you think you’d be alright waiting here for a bit? I think… I think you should see Rashia.” Anders’ heart leapt as simultaneously, his stomach filled with butterflies. He tightened his coat about his shoulders.

“I… I think so,” he managed to whisper, and with great reluctance on Nathaniel’s part, he was once again left alone.

At least the room was familiar, and he was still a little hungry.

Anders continued to nibble at bits of cheese and ham until Nathaniel arrived back with a sight he’d never thought to see again: Rashia Amell stepping through the door to the larder, followed by a man who he didn’t recognize, but the name was as familiar to him as she was.

The other Warden was Alistair Theirin, Rashia’s partner and the infamous bastard of King Maric.

Rashia immediately pulled him into a hug, and Nathaniel must have told her of his condition because she didn’t look quite as surprised as he had when she pulled away. She was still in awe of him though, however he didn’t know how much of that awe was attributed to the child within him or merely his presence here at the keep.

“There’s… so much I want to ask,” she said at last when she sat next to him at the table. Nathaniel and Alistair sat across from them, grazing on some bread slices and watching their exchange with a great deal of interest.

“There is… so much I have to say,” Anders replied. What else _could_ he say?

Rashia sighed, reaching up to cup his face with one hand and gently rub her thumb against his stubble. He saw that she still wore her hair in the two buns tied severely at the base of her head, but the years since he’d seen her had aged her. Not poorly, exactly, rather her age was more like that of a fine wine: subtle and distinguished. She no longer looked like the barely out of her teens adult that he’d had a few steamy tumbles with when he was first a Warden.

“Nathaniel has… told me what he knows of your time in Kirkwall,” she began slowly. “I haven’t been back here long myself otherwise I would have come and…”

“Dragged me back?” Anders pressed. “I… I wish I could say that I would’ve wanted that.”

Surely, she had to have known by now the circumstances of his departure?

“If it were up to me,” she said in a low, angry growl, “that monster who ran you off would never have become a Warden in the first place.” A gentle, motherly kiss was pressed against his cheek, and it was that which had him in tears again. Rashia brought him close again, and he complained as she held him, “I can’t seem to stop crying, damnit. It’s like that’s all I do now.”

“It might ease up soon,” she soothed. “Now that you’re far enough along to show.” She paused, and Anders braced himself for the question he knew was coming.

“How did you even manage it in the first place? We… we’re practically infertile.”

Anders sniffed, blinking owlishly as he disentangled himself from her embrace. That hadn’t been the question he was expecting. “It seems that I just got lucky… or unlucky as the case may be.” He didn’t bother hiding the bitterness of his voice. He wiped at his tears as he heard her sigh, and when he looked at her again, she was frowning at him with thinly veiled concern.

“What about the child’s sire?”

Ah. There it was.

He sighed, shaking his head. “He doesn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want me to keep the child, so I left.” Anders stared at the table, gaze fixed on a particular whorl in the unpolished wood. “Or rather, he told me to leave if I wanted to keep it so badly. It was clear that he wanted no place in my life as long as the child was in it as well, and… and I just couldn’t bear to get rid of it.” He hiccuped, and a firm hand rubbed gentle circles into his back.

“Is… that why you came back?” she asked, and Anders had to take a few deep breaths to steady his breathing and compose his thoughts.

“No,” he confessed. “Not entirely. I… I blew up the Kirkwall Chantry.”

The hand at his back stilled, and both Nathaniel and Alistair stared at him. The room was silent for a long time as Anders shivered. Rashia’s hands slid around to grasp his shoulders and they tightened slightly as she gripped him gently.

“Was this at Justice’s suggestion?” Nathaniel asked him, the sound making Anders jump a little, though Rashia held him firmly. Once Anders’ thoughts settled, he frowned, trying to think. He didn’t really know anymore, what had been his idea and what had been Justice’s. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“I… don’t know,” he decided, hoping the honesty would help. “I think in the beginning, it was Justice’s, but… in the end, it was me who cast the spell that triggered the explosion. Justice has been… quiet for a long time now. I can still feel him, but something’s–it’s like he’s sleeping. Content. He’s never been content. That’s why I went through with it in the first place, because I figured I should.” He sniffed and hugged his middle.

“I didn’t even think about the baby. After–after Fenris kicked me out, all I wanted was, was…”

He couldn’t even bother to finish the sentence and he turned to sob into Rashia’s hair. Kind as she was, she let him do it, and she even sung him some of the songs of his youth that he’d forgotten that he’d taught her.

“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered. “Whatever your reasons, what’s done is done, and you’re home now. You’re safe. Your baby will be safe.”

“Why?” Anders couldn’t help but ask. “I don’t deserve–”

“It’s not about deserving anything, Anders,” she said assertively, cutting him off. “It’s about what you need, and what your baby needs. You seem past the desire to die, so now you need to live. That child already has only one parent now.” Anders caught and met his commander’s gaze. Her eyes were hard and piercing, but she had tears of her own forming in them and threatening to fall. Her lip quivered slightly as her next words sent a spike of ice through his heart.

“Don’t make this child into an orphan before they can even know you.”

She reached up and tucked a flyaway hair behind one ear.

“You have the chance to do something no mage I know has ever done,” she continued as she smoothed back his unkempt hair. “You’ll be able to carry your baby to term and keep them when they’re born. You’ll get to name them, hold them, feed them, love them. _Love them_ , Anders.”

“I hear you,” Anders whispered. “I hear you.”

“That’s it,” she crooned softly. “Now, I know there’s probably a lot of other things we need to talk about, but those can wait until morning. You look done in, and could probably use a good bath. Do you think you’d be comfortable spending the night in your old quarters?”

“The bedroom off the side of the infirmary?” Anders asked. “That’s still there?”

Rashia nodded. “It is. Will you be fine sleeping there or would you rather go back to the barracks with Nathaniel?”

Anders glanced at Nathaniel who was as stoic as ever. The expression reminded him of Fenris’ usual demeanor, and suddenly Anders wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by cauldrons and herbs and proper clinic beds.

“The infirmary’s fine,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure that it was.

Nathaniel bid him goodnight after that, but both Rashia and Alistair walked him to the infirmary to help him get settled. Alistair carried a tray of food for him in case he found himself hungry in the middle of the night, and Rashia… she kept him calm.

They had just gotten him settled in when Nathaniel returned, poking his head around the door.

“Hey, I found the little beast hunting mice in the barracks,” he muttered as he entered the room, and Anders gasped when he caught sight of the furry bundle in Nathaniel’s arms.

“Ser Pounce-a-lot!”

Upon hearing Anders’ voice, the cat leapt from the archer’s arms and sprinted towards the mage, meowing incessantly. Anders immediately picked the tabby up and held him close, burying his face into his orange fur.

“Look at you,” he cooed, “you’re so big! Ugh, and so heavy…”

He winced as he set the cat down on one of the counters, and Rashia laughed at his reaction.

“When I heard that you’d had to get rid of him, I was absolutely furious,” she told him rather seriously. “But when Nate told me he’d managed to get his sister to look after him, I had him brought back here in case…”

“In case I ever found my way back,” Anders sighed.

Rashia nodded. “You make it sound like you were a lost puppy, Anders.”

“Not a bad thing to be, in Ferelden,” Alistair piped, and Rashia playfully hit him in the arm.

“Regardless,” she continued as she turned back to Anders, “now you don’t have to sleep alone, and I meant what I said before, in that I don’t care what you did in Kirkwall. I’m just glad that you’re back, and that you’re safe. The baby is a bonus, and just so you don’t have to worry, I won’t be asking you to make any treks into the Deep Roads anytime soon.”

“That is… more than a relief,” Anders told her as his breath left him in a rush. He reached over and idly pet Ser Pounce-a-lot as the cat was busy headbutting his face into Anders’ side.

“Now get some sleep, alright?” she told him sternly when she left.

“I will. Good night, Rashia.”

Anders waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps to collapse on one of the beds. Ser Pounce-a-lot noticed that his person was gone, and immediately leapt from his counter to the floor and quickly made his way to the bed where Anders was curled up. Anders felt Ser Pounce’s weight against his middle, and he was suddenly very, very glad that he wasn’t alone.

He didn’t bother getting up to bathe because he was too exhausted.

That, along with everything else, could wait until morning.

* * *

 

Time passed, and Anders eventually learned not to start crying at every kindness his former friends showed him.

He settled into a new routine of rest, research, harvesting and growing herbs in the gardens… he even started going through staff forms again, though because of his current condition he did not spar with any of the others. He was given new robes as well, to accommodate his belly as he grew, courtesy of Wade and Herren.

And grow he did. It was not long before the time of quickening was upon him and he first felt the baby move. He was in the garden at the time, harvesting some elfroot for more potions, when there was a soft fluttering from inside.

He gasped and he immediately paused what he was doing to press his hands against his belly.

“C’mon,” he pleaded softly, “c’mon. Move for papa.”

Miraculously, his request was granted when the sensation came again and tears came to his eyes. Suddenly he was consumed with the desire to share this experience with the child’s sire, but… he knew that was impossible.

However, Velanna happened by at that moment and noticed his tears, and somehow he managed to get her close enough for her to feel the movements within.

“Thank you for doing that,” he offered her after she’d pulled away. The elf merely huffed sharply through her nose and shrugged. “It’s the least I can do, I suppose. I’d never abandon any omega I sired a child upon, and I can’t fathom why an alpha’d want to. I know you don’t think you deserve any of this,” she continued, gesturing to the gardens around them, “but you didn’t deserve abandonment.”

It was all Anders could do to nod and restrain himself from hugging the proud woman, though she let him do so anyway and even helped him finish his task.

Thinking of Fenris still made Anders’ heart ache, but after several months had passed, he found that he wasn’t angry at Fenris for casting him out, nor did he regret leaving in order to keep the child. Rather, something in him wished he’d had more time. If only that, then perhaps Fenris might’ve come ‘round and they’d be together again.

They’d be a _family_.

He tried not to dwell on it much though, for the baby’s sake.

Instead he tried his best to enjoy the experience despite the circumstances, because this was likely to be the only time he’d get to do so. And he did enjoy it, very much. He reveled in his late night cravings and trips to the chamberpot, the swollen belly and aching feet. He cherished every kick, every turn, every hiccup he felt…

...the only thing that continued to niggle at his mind was Justice’s continued quiescence, yet he decided that as long as the spirit was content, perhaps he had nothing to worry about.

That was, however, until the day he went into labor.

Anders was folding linens when it happened. He’d been hot and irritable all morning, as though nothing could make him comfortable. His belly had dropped about two weeks ago, and the baby’s movements had decreased as time went on. That morning had been an exception, with the child giving a good hard shove to his bladder to get him moving, and it had only served to make him more irritable than usual.

He had just set aside a completely folded sheet and was rubbing his belly when it happened.

A sharp tightening lanced across his middle that had him bending over and gasping, a hand clasping the edge of the table. He paused, waiting to see if another one would come, and after what felt like an eternity, he felt it again.

He poked his head out of the clinic and hailed one of the new recruits, sending them to fetch the commander.

“Hurry, it’s urgent!”

Immediately he set about getting things ready and had just put water on to boil when Rashia breezed through the door and started fussing over him. “It’s just like you, you know,” she chastised him, “to start my work for me. You should be sitting down and trying to get comfortable; go read a book or something if you can.”

Anders grumbled. “I haven’t been able to get comfortable all morning Rashia,” he shot back. “It’s easier for me to… keep myself busy, and besides, this could last for hours.”

She sighed, quite obviously in disagreement with him about this, however she let him continue folding the sheets until the contractions started coming closer together, at which point she finally forced him to lie down. Ser Pounce-a-lot came wandering in at that point and jumped up onto the bed to lick at Anders’ face.

“It’s alright,” he tried reassuring the concerned tabby, “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” Rashia asked, looking up after she’d finished checking how far along he was. Anders nodded, though he was not certain how convincing he was. Rashia seemed to sense his unease, and after she’d washed her hands again, she put a hand to his shoulder.

“It won’t be long now before you’ll be ready to push. That’s… not quite what I meant though.”

“I… think so,” Anders said as he tried to breathe through the pain of a contraction.

“Just remember, we’re all here for you,” she reminded him, and it comforted him a little, knowing that she wasn’t just saying things. He couldn’t help but think of Fenris, who should _also be there_ watching their child be born… but he knew better than to dwell on that now, especially that he was definitely getting ready to push.

“Rashia–!” he warned, and he saw her head nod from between his legs. “I know. You’re ready. Start pushing on the next contraction, and stop when I tell you.”

Anders didn’t know how much longer it was before he heard that first, wailing cry and tears fell down his face once more at the sound of it. He lay back, panting harshly, still twitching from the pain, but it felt like only moments later that he’d passed the afterbirth and his child was in his arms. “A little boy,” Rashia told him. “All ten fingers and toes. He’s the perfect picture of health.”

“Hi,” Anders whispered as he undid the front of his robes for the babe to nurse. “Hi, my love.”

Rashia smiled at Anders as he cooed over his son.

“What’s his name?” she asked, and for a moment, Anders was frozen. But then a thought occurred to him and his answer was immediately, “Leto. His name is Leto.”

She didn’t ask about the origin of the name, and Anders was glad for it. He didn’t have it in him to explain. Instead, he just held his newborn son close and tried not to wish that Fenris was right there with him to witness the miracle in his arms…

...it wasn’t until the next morning that Anders realized he couldn’t feel Justice anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! There's a little bit more angst, but definitely the happy ending that I promised. Enjoy. :)

The scent of meat and muck was heavy on the air in the Amaranthine market.

Small children ran underfoot as their parents and other market goers exchanged their coin for goods and services. It looked like a city untouched by the goings-on of the world beyond, as despite the Chantry presence in the city, there were more off-duty Wardens and city guardsmen about than Templars.

It looked like the city had never heard of the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry, or if it had, Fenris thought, then it didn’t care.

It had been nearly two years since Kirkwall. Two years since he’d made possibly the worst mistake of his life, and one that he’d hoped to correct. He wasn’t sure where to begin, since the only clue he’d had to go on as to Anders’ whereabouts was the city itself, but even though it wasn’t the size Kirkwall had been, there were still too many places to look.

He scowled, his eyes passing over a display of trinkets and baubles as he thought back to the night in a dingy tavern in Denerim that had brought him here.

* * *

 

_Fenris stared deeply into his third glass of wine from his second bottle of the night, his thoughts swimming in the pool of darkness that was his well of regret and shame. He didn’t have it in him to cry, mostly because he wasn’t sure he **could** , but he also knew it wouldn’t do him any good._

_Tears wouldn’t soothe the ache in his heart, nor mend the tear in his soul._

_He hadn’t been mated to Anders, and he’d thought that was for the best. That way, when they would inevitably part ways, it would be easy because there’d be no strings attached. He hadn’t counted on falling in love. He certainly hadn’t counted on the child that he’d yet to meet, if it was even still alive. If **Anders** was even still alive._

_Evidently, he’d been wrong, and the instant he’d seen Anders’ face after Hawke had let him go… he’d wished he could go after him._

_However, Hawke’s barking command had brokered no argument when he dragged everyone else to go sort out the situation in the Gallows, and when Fenris had come back to the city to look for Anders, he only found heartache and ruin. Anders was gone. Had likely fled the city the first chance he got, and Fenris had no idea where to start._

_It had been sheer luck that a dockworker had remembered a tall man with the features he described who had been bound on a ship to Highever, though he hadn’t been wearing feathered pauldrons or carrying a staff, just a walking stick._

_Fenris figured that the “walking stick” hadn’t really been a walking stick at all, and so he’d hopped on the next boat to Highever that he could, only to hit a dead end when he arrived and had no idea where to go next. He ended up travelling Ferelden as a mercenary, hoping to find word wherever he could, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, he was beginning to wonder if he should just…_

_“Excuse me, friend, but may I join you in your drinking?”_

_Fenris’ ears twitched, and his fingers did the same as he tensed upon hearing the sound of another voice so close to him._

_“We are not… friends…” he slurred, and a chuckle answered him as the person sat in the seat across from him, pulling their own glass and alcohol out from… somewhere. Fenris tched, almost automatically. Rouges._

_“No, we are not,” the person agreed. Fenris frowned and focused on them through the haze of his drunkenness. The person was an elf, and one he recognized, oddly enough._

_“Zevran,” he managed to reply, and the elf grinned, his eyes glowing molten gold in the light of the oil lamp fixed to the wall above their table. “That is my name, yes,” Zevran purred. “Do feel free to say it as often as you like.”_

_Fenris grumbled. “Why are you here? I want to be left alone…”_

_Zevran sighed dramatically and gestured to nothing in particular. “Why am I here? I’m running a few… errands for the Queen Anora at my dear Warden’s behest. I was rather surprised to find you here, of all places… until I caught wind of some of your… drunken interrogations.” Zevran chuckled smoothly, taking a draw from his own drink._

_“You know, in my experience, it is better to seek information when one is sober than drunk.”_

_“Don’t tell me what to do with my drink, **assassin** ,” Fenris muttered, but the other elf merely laughed again in that smooth voice of his that somehow grated on Fenris’ already frayed nerves._

_“I never said I was,” Zevran insisted, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. “Rather, I thought I might pass along some information about that omega you’re looking for. Perhaps–”_

_Fenris leaned over the table so fast that he appeared for a moment to actually startle the assassin, though Zevran’s face had merely gone blank for an instant before he schooled his expression again as Fenris growled, “Anders–where… you know where he is?”_

_Zevran nodded calmly. “I do indeed. I even spoke to him myself the last time I was near Amaranthine.” Fenris slowly slunk back down in his seat as the other elf continued, “He still misses you terribly, you know, in spite of your… negligence.” Fenris winced. When it came to matters of abandonment, it appeared that the assassin strangely refused to beat around the bush. He was not certain whether he wanted to call it admirable or irritating._

_“He… he does?”_

_Venhedis. Why did he have to sound so damn hopeful?_

_Zevran chuckled as he nodded, but the sound of it was less… derisive, more understanding._

_“Yes. And I think he might even still hold a candle for you in the hopes that you might still want to be a father to that adorable son of yours, though I cannot fathom why…”_

_A son. He had a son._

_“Amaranthine, you said?”_

_“Thereabouts,” he answered cryptically. “Ask after a Delilah Howe, if you get lost. She’ll point you in the right direction.”_

* * *

 

Fenris sighed as he turned away from the trinket stand and continued onward further into the market. He felt like he was _this close_ to finding Anders again, and all he had to do was find this Delilah Howe.

Eventually after he grew tired of his listless wandering, he walked up to a dark haired woman running another shop stall who was balancing a baby that looked barely a year old on one hip, while another, older, more rambunctious child danced about her skirts as a teenaged girl with similar features tried to rein them in.

Fenris approached her slowly, knowing that even without his previously spiked armor, he still frightened some people when he approached. It was the hair he thought, or perhaps the markings. Maybe both.

She did not seem frightened however as he walked up to her, which was good, he thought.

“Here to buy something, are you?” she asked, her tiredness overlaid with a cutting tongue that belied a hidden wit.

Fenris shook his head apologetically.

“No, I’m afraid. And I apologize if I am wasting your time, but I am looking for a… Delilah Howe?”

The woman looked stunned for a moment, blinking at him owlishly before adjusting the sleeping child at her hip and fixing him with a hard stare.

“ _I_ am Delilah Howe,” she declared, “though I’ve not been a Howe for many years. Who’s asking?” Fenris cleared his throat. “I am called Fenris, but that’s not important. I was told that you would know where to find Warden Anders?” Delilah’s brows lifted slightly at the mention of Anders’ name, and she hugged the sleeping child closer to her chest.

“I do. Who told you this?”

“A friend of the Hero of Ferelden. An elven assassin named Zevran?”

“Oh,” Delilah deadpanned. “Him. I see. Well what do you want with him, exactly?”

Fenris strangely had trouble keeping his gaze locked with hers, but he managed it, even as he fidgeted with his gauntlets. “I wronged him some time ago, and I wished to apologize.” He thought that was a sufficient enough explanation, as he was reluctant to go into the details of his personal shame and regrets. She seemed to buy it well enough, though.

“So you came all this way just to _apologize_?” she asked, incredulous.

Well, she’d _mostly_ bought it.

Fenris sighed, glancing down to fidget with his gauntlets more intently.

“We were… intimate, a long time ago. It didn’t end well, and… I don’t know. I figured life’s too short to have regrets.” He looked up upon hearing Delilah’s snort, only to find her gaze almost… sympathetic. “Well,” she said, putting one hand on the hip that wasn’t occupied by a small child, “That sounds more like you still fancy him, you know. Coming all this way just to apologize?”

She scoffed, the sound barely audible, even to his ears.

“No alpha does that for an omega unless they love them.”

Delilah was about to say more when she caught sight of something, or rather, someone off in the distance, and for the briefest moment Fenris turned to look… before turning quickly around and tightening the hood of his cloak just a little more.

He felt a presence come up from behind him and stand off to his left, and then Delilah actually handed off the babe on her hip to the man beside him.

To Anders.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Fenris heard him ask, and Delilah shook her head.

“Not at all. He’s such a darling. Almost makes me want to have another of my own.” She looked askance at the teenager who was trying to corral the younger sibling off to the side, and she sighed deeply. “Well, almost. I think I’m good with these two for now.” She smiled at him, and then glanced in Fenris’ direction. He tensed.

“Oh, and this fellow has something to say to you. An apology of some kind.”

“An apology?” came Anders’ chuckling, skeptical reply, and then Fenris turned around and pulled back the hood of his cloak. Anders’ gasp was slight, and Fenris doubted that the human woman next to them could hear it.

“I… I see,” Anders stammered, clutching the child to his chest. Fenris’ eyes glanced down, and his heart began to race.

Was this…?

“Delilah, may we borrow your kitchen for… for a few moments?”

“Sure, dear. Take as long as you need.”

Anders nodded, and he turned around without a word, Fenris following silently in his wake. The mage made his way through the market with practiced ease, though the silence between them was… almost too heavy to bear. Still, Fenris knew that if the mage had wanted to make a scene, he could have. The fact that he hadn’t seemed to speak volumes…

If only Fenris knew what was going through his head just now.

Anders led them to a small house just outside of the market district, and they entered it into a small parlor, which led off into a more secluded kitchen with a table and several chairs arranged around its length, the only light coming in from the street facing window. Fenris took a chair immediately, seceding control of the conversation while simultaneously trying to make Anders feel… something. Fenris wasn’t sure; but sitting down first and bowing his head was the only way he knew to give Anders the power to feel like he could walk away at any time.

“Don’t do that,” were the first words out of Anders’ mouth as he sat down, not quite opposite from Fenris, who had taken the seat closest to the darkened hearth.

Fenris looked up reflexively, and was astonished to see unshed tears swimming in Anders’ eyes. “Don’t do what?” came Fenris’ tentative reply. It sounded as though he hadn’t spoken in years, though he’d spoken to Delilah just fine moments ago. Anders sniffed. “Don’t shut me out like that. I’m… I’m not Danarius. We… we can have this conversation like two civil people.”

Anders’ lip quivered slightly, as though he didn’t quite believe his own words.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris said quickly, and after that the words fell out of his mouth in a rush. “For–for all of it. For threatening you, for kicking you out, I–” Fenris sniffed, and felt something prickling at the edges of his eyes. He wiped at them gingerly, and he was genuinely surprised when his fingers came away damp with his own tears.

He let out a soft, shuddering breath as he continued, “I wanted to go after you, when you ran. I tried to look for you after… but you were already out of the city by the time we came back.”

“So why didn’t you follow me?” Anders asked quietly, a tiredness permeating his words.

“Hawke,” Fenris answered. “I tried to leave, but then he made some speech about cleaning up messes and doing damage control and–”

“And that was more important than me,” Anders interjected with that same tiredness. Fenris stood up and shook his head violently as the words, “No, nothing was more important than you!”

That was when a soft cry sounded from the bundle in Anders’ arms, and Fenris stood stock still as Anders shushed Fenris without hesitation while he gently rocked the fussing babe. Fenris didn’t dare move a muscle; he stood so still he felt himself shake from the strain of holding himself in that position until he slowly, very quietly sat back down.

“Nothing was more important than you,” he repeated in a barely there whisper. “I was just too much the fool to realize that before… before it was too late.”

Fenris tried to suppress a sob, but only managed to strangle it a little as he sniffed wetly and tried to rub his tears away. He heard Anders sigh deeply and the chair creaked a little as, for some reason, the mage dragged it just a little closer. Fenris jumped when he felt a hand touch one of his own, and he froze as Anders’ face came into view.

They were barely a foot apart from one another, so he could even see the flecks of amber in Anders’ deep, honey brown eyes.

“It’s not too late, Fenris,” Anders breathed, his own voice a similarly faint whisper.

The baby fussed again, and this time they both looked down to watch as the child’s eyes opened, blinking blearily. Something in Fenris’ heart just… sort of fell apart when he realized that this… this was his son. His child.

“Would you like to hold him?” Anders asked, and Fenris stared at him in shock, opening his mouth to refuse, but unable to voice his protests. Anders smile was faint, but Fenris was fairly certain he could see amusement twinkling in his tired eyes. “I can show you how. Just take off your gauntlets, and let his head rest on your arm, yes, just like that…”

In mere moments, he was _holding his son_. Holding him.

“He’s… so small,” was all Fenris could manage, and Anders chuckled. “He was smaller just after he was born. He’s actually bigger than I’d expect for a year and a half… he’s still struggling with his words a bit, but if I let him roam the infirmary he’ll absolutely walk all around and get into just about anything I haven’t locked up. He’s quite the little menace.”

Fenris sighed deeply.

“I’ve… I’ve missed so much, haven’t I?”

“A little,” Anders admitted. “You haven’t completely missed his teething, not that that’s exactly a picnic.” Fenris chuckled a little. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed hearing the mage grouse… about anything, really. “Is it so terrible?” he asked, and Anders shrugged.

“Not really? It’s just hard to get him to take naps when he’s got a new tooth coming in. Today must be a good day, because he hasn’t slept for so long in a while.”

Fenris looked down again, and he was surprised to see that the child’s eyes were wide open and staring at him intently. He noticed then that their son had Anders’ eyes, but the dark hair… Fenris frowned as he reached over to touch it, only to find himself marvelling at its softness. Anders huffed quietly through his nose.

“I think he gets his coloring from you. Your hair must’ve been black, as a child. Neither of my parents had black in their family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Leto.”

Fenris looked up, and Anders smiled sheepishly. “I… I couldn’t let you go, even then. I… wanted to have a little piece of you with me always, even if I never saw you again, I… it’s silly, I know.”

“It’s not silly,” Fenris murmured, glancing down as Leto began to babble and shift in his lap.

He startled a little, but Anders cautioned him to remain calm and support his back. “I think he wants you to hold him on your hip. Leto, use your words. Come on, tell your father you want to be held.” The little child was stubborn, but after a few tries Anders eventually got him to vocalize his desire, and the sound of his son’s voice melted his heart once more as Leto’s face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Velanna tells me he’s scenting you,” Anders explained. “It’s an elf thing, apparently.”

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Fenris intuitively bent his head a little to catch Leto’s scent, and his hold on the babe became more relaxed almost instantly. He sighed, closing his eyes, and they remained that way until Leto started to squirm again.

“Careful, I think he’s trying to get a fistful of your hair,” Anders warned. “That is not a pleasant feeling, let me tell you.” Fenris chuckled and lapsed into an uncharacteristic fit of whimsy. He tickled a spot underneath the slightly pointed ears that had sharp peals of laughter echoing through the room. Anders appeared quite stunned.

“N–No one’s ever gotten him to laugh like that before,” he breathed, mouth slightly agape.

Fenris merely flashed a tender smile at the omega, and a comfortable silence settled over the room as the two of them sat knee to knee with their child in between them.

“So what happens now?” Anders asked when they heard the Chantry bells ring the noon hour.

Fenris glanced down at his son, _their_ son, who was mostly laying against his chest, half asleep and drooling just a bit. Then he tentatively looked back up at Anders.

“You have every right to throw me out,” he replied. He hated saying it because it made his chest ache something awful, but he knew it had to be said. “And you have every right to turn around and never look back.”

“I’m not so certain that I want to,” Anders confessed. “But before I decide to let you come with us, there’s something you should know.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t feel Justice anymore. I haven’t since Leto was born.”

Fenris stilled. Looked down.

“There’s… nothing?”

Anders shook his head. “Not a thing. I even went and found some obscure Avvar ritual to detect spirits, and… nothing.” Anders looked down, reached into a pocket, and gently wiped away the drool on Leto’s face. “I even tried it on him, but… it didn’t do anything either. I even went out to the Blackmarsh and tested it out there. Plenty of spirits in the Blackmarsh.”

He looked up and met Fenris’ gaze. “No, I don’t know what it means, but I suspect… that…”

“That your spirit is a part of our son.”

“Or he became him. I don’t know. It’s not like I can _tell_.”

Fenris could feel Anders’ hands, which were gently gripping at his thighs, tremble slightly as he spoke. It wasn’t obvious in his voice or his expression, but Anders’ eyes were filled with fear. Fenris reached up with one hand and gently cupped the mage’s face, relishing in the familiar feeling of stubble beneath his fingers.

“You’re afraid,” Fenris murmured. Anders nodded. “Only I don’t know what of. Maybe it’s that my baby is possibly a spirit who possessed me, maybe I’m still waiting to wake up and for this to be a construct of the Fade. You wouldn’t believe how many times that’s happened.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Fenris sighed, feeling quite forlorn.

“Maybe I’m afraid that if this isn’t a dream, then it’s real and I might lose you again. I can’t go through that again, I have Leto to take care of now.”

“Then you won’t have to. That is… if you’ll allow me to go with you.”

“You would… even if…?”

“I don’t care. He’s my son. Our son. And you? I am nothing without you.”

Anders gave a little sob and then leaned into his touch. “Maker, how I’ve missed you,” he mumbled into Fenris’ hand. Fenris moved to pull the omega closer, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “And I’ve missed you. Even if you never forgive me for my foolishness, I promise you I’ll never leave you again.”

“You would give me a mating mark?”

“Just say when and where. I am yours.”

* * *

 

When Anders introduced him to his Warden friends two days later, the reception he received was not quite the one he expected. Anders had warned him that they had all been protective of him during his pregnancy, and didn’t exactly have a high opinion of the alpha who’d abandoned his pregnant omega.

However, when he stood in Anders’ infirmary with the commander, a human archer, two dwarves and an elf, they were less… hostile than he had expected.

When he asked why they weren’t all eager to kill him right then and there, it was the older of the two dwarves who answered. “You look like a man who’s spent a long time trying to right one hell of a wrong, you know?” The female dwarf beside him nodded. “Yeah. And even though I don’t quite understand what’s such a big deal about alpha and omega bonds, I know about regret and wanting to make up for one shitty decision.”

“But do it again,” –this time it was the blonde Dalish elf– “and I will personally find you and hunt you down. It will be slow, and it will be painful. Excruciating–”

“I think he understands,” the human woman interjected, smirking. “Save the speech about showing him his innards for some other time. There’s a child present, if you haven’t forgotten.”

All heads whipped around to find said child sitting in Anders’ chair, gnawing on a sturdy, whittled horse. The poor thing was quite damp and covered in little pockmarks that Fenris assumed were teeth imprints. The archer groaned a little, and beside Fenris, Anders laughed.

“Sorry Nate, your birthday present has been his latest favorite thing to chew on when new teeth are coming in.” Nathaniel sighed and shook his head, grumbling, “Well, at least he likes it, I guess.” Beside him, the human woman snorted. After that exchange, they all introduced one another to Fenris, and he to them. The elf was Velanna, the dwarves were Sigrun and Oghren, and Fenris vaguely recalled that the archer was Nathaniel Howe.

“You’re Rashia Amell,” Fenris breathed, in awe. “You’re the Hero of Ferelden.”

She seemed to mistake his awe for something else, because she merely gave him a dead eyed look and said, “Yeah, I’m a mage. Deal with it.”

“No, that’s not…” Fenris groaned and shook his head. “I met a friend of yours… in Denerim.”

Rashia frowned. “Denerim? I’m not sure I have too many of those there, considering that I brought the Darkspawn horde down on it and burned down half the city.”

Fenris laughed. “An elven assassin by the name of Zevran found me and told me this was where I might find… well.” Fenris glanced over at Anders. “You.” Anders blinked at him owlishly. “What? Really? What did he say to you?”

“He said that you missed me. That you still cared for me even though I had been so cruel to you. I… I confess that before he spoke with me, I was close to giving up. He gave me hope, and the courage to come looking.” Rashia clucked her tongue and shook her head, her expression hovering somewhere between amused and bewildered.

“Zevran. I should’ve known. I’d forgotten that I’d sent him there to help Anora with some things.”

“Maker, I need to thank him,” Anders muttered, mostly to himself. “If he’s what brought you back to me…” Fenris snorted. “Try not to praise him too much. He might let it go to his head.”

“Too late,” Rashia cut in. “I think that happened ages ago. Compliment away. Just don’t let him talk you into a drinking contest with Oghren. That never ends well.” Oghren huffed. “I thought that ended very well, the last time.”

“That’s because you won!”

Fenris chuckled to himself at the display, and he felt Anders thread their fingers together as they watched Anders’ friends politely bicker their way out the door.

“You know,” Anders began idly, watching as the infirmary doors closed behind them, “Zevran’s… peculiar mannerisms aside, I’m really glad he told you. You might not be here, otherwise.” Fenris nodded. “Likely so. I was quite lost in the pit of despair that I’d dug for myself. I hadn’t thought there was any hope of escaping it.”

“But you’re here now. You’ve found me again.”

“Mmm. Or perhaps it’s you who found me. Either way, I don’t intend to lose you a second time.”

Anders merely smiled and pulled him close for a deep, consuming kiss. It lit a fire inside Fenris that he’d never thought he’d know again, and he could see that same fire echoed in Anders’ eyes. One whiff and Fenris could tell that Anders was not long for another heat, and he told Anders as much. The omega nodded.

“I’m past due, I suppose. It won’t start in earnest for another few days though, and… I’d rather just like to enjoy those days while they last.”

“Your last days as an unmated omega… if you’re still willing to let me mark you.”

“We’ll see,” Anders said seriously, but the twinkling light in Anders’ eyes told Fenris all he needed to know.

Three days later, the pair handed off little Leto to his five eager babysitters (with an offhand comment to Oghren to make sure to give the babe water or actual grape juice and not wine) before they disappeared into the infirmary and sequestered themselves there for a while. Fenris, true to his word, waited for Anders tell him when and where, and after Anders’ heat was over, he wore his mark proudly, uncaring that none of his robes had collars high enough to cover it.

And it was about three years later after a particularly hellish year involving a tear in the sky, a false calling, and a magister darkspawn who was behind the whole affair that… Anders discovered that he was pregnant again.

Fenris was the picture of a doting father. Sometimes a little too doting, but Anders didn’t appear to have the heart to complain.

This time Fenris was able to be present for the birth of their daughter, Franziska, who was named after Anders’ mother. For Fenris, it was like becoming a parent all over again, and despite their fears that Leto might be jealous of the new addition to their family, he was not, much to their relief.

Leto, on the other hand, had yet to show any signs of being affected by Justice, other than that he possessed an unwavering wonder about the beauty in the world around him, and he absolutely refused to cheat at any game he played.

Anders confessed to Fenris once that Leto’s behavior was similar to how Justice had first been when he’d possessed the corpse of the Warden Kristoff. Only time would tell what other quirks Leto might develop, but for the moment he was merely a curious if not precocious child, and neither Anders or Fenris could find any fault in that.

Fenris watched as his beloved omega nursed their newborn daughter, and their son was curled up in a nearby chair, fast asleep and once again drooling all over himself.

He still hadn’t quite grown out of that.

Fenris couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face, which Anders noticed.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Fenris didn’t answer right away, and instead he leaned over to press a kiss to Anders’ forehead, then another on the top of little Franziska’s wispy tuft of reddish hairs. “I was thinking about how lucky I am,” he said at last with a soft sigh. “If Zevran hadn’t found me…” He shook his head, unable to bear thinking of it.

“We never did thank Zevran,” Anders added, chuckling.

“Then we should,” Fenris said, sighing softly as he leaned against his mate. Anders merely hummed in agreement, and neither of them moved until Franziska’s soft cries woke them early the next morning as a new day dawned on the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> I tumble [here](http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/). Come say hi! I don't bite... unless you're pasta.


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